


Recesses

by basilophage



Category: Elder Scrolls, Elder Scrolls V: Skyrim
Genre: Awkward Boners, Awkward Crush, BDSM, Choking, Co-workers, Communication, Cunnilingus, Dorks in Love, Drinking, F/M, Fantasizing, Felching, Femdom, First Time, Fluff and Smut, Gossip, Hair-pulling, Humiliation, Instructional Sex, Loss of Virginity, Masturbation, Mistaken for Being in a Relationship, Oblivious, One Shot, Original Character(s), POV Third Person Limited, Plot What Plot/Porn Without Plot, Porn with Feelings, Redguard - Freeform, Sexual Fantasy, Sexual Violence, Shameless Smut, Smut, Trapped, Vaginal Fingering, Vaginal Sex, Verbal Humiliation, Virginity, Worship, anyway i've got a personal brand and it's, because some of his fantasies get kinda dark, farengar is super oblivious, farengar secret fire sexually submits to a fellow academic, he also has a lot of sexual fantasies about being humiliated and degraded but who doesn't, he's also very awkward and very prone to negative self talk, i like nerds getting dominated by other nerds what can i say, loving bdsm, redguard love interest, still gonna tag this as
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-04-26
Updated: 2019-04-26
Packaged: 2020-02-04 14:18:06
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: No Archive Warnings Apply
Chapters: 1
Words: 11,688
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/18606244
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/basilophage/pseuds/basilophage
Summary: Farengar is an anti-social virgin who can't stop fantasizing about his sharp-tongued colleague, Hafizah. As far as he's concerned, she's absolute perfection: intelligent, vivacious, worldly, and more than happy to trade barbs with him all day long. But a hatchet-faced milk drinker like him could never hope to catch her eye, so he resigns himself to daydreaming about being dominated by the beautiful court tutor. Until, that is, they're forced to spend a night locked in her bedroom together.





	Recesses

**Author's Note:**

> I said this in the tags, but I wanted to reiterate: Farengar has terrible self-esteem and engages in a lot of self-deprecation regarding his sexual inexperience. He also approaches his fetishes in some pretty unhealthy ways and has a lot of shame surrounding them. While I definitely wouldn't call this fic angsty, I felt like I should put up a warning anyway.

Contrary to whatever gossip had been circulating around the keep lately, there was absolutely nothing inappropriate about Farengar’s relationship with the court tutor. He and Hafizah had a friendship built on mutual respect and shared scholarly interest, and he’d rarely say more than that on the subject.

But just in case he did ever need to say more, he had a litany of perfectly valid deflections and excuses memorized. If he conversed with Hafizah in his study for hours on end, it was because she was one of the few people in this city educated enough to hold an intelligent discussion. If he ordered extra copies of his favorite books to be sent to her room, it was merely because he was interested in her academic opinions on them. And if he thought of her sharp, clever gaze and her teasing laugh when he stroked himself at night, _well_ , that wasn’t anyone’s business but his.

Farengar sullenly grabbed another ale from a serving tray and retreated further into his corner. He wasn’t a socially adept man. He knew this. The Jarl knew this. The entire citizenry of Whiterun knew this. But however ill-suited and ill-disposed he was to such events, as a member of the court, he was required to make an appearance at every official feast. It had become his practice to spend these celebrations scowling in a corner, nursing an ale and looking unapproachable until he could slip away without drawing any attention. Sometimes, when he felt especially outgoing, he’d even go so far as to share a sympathetic nod with Irileth, who usually looked every bit as miserable as he did.

But tonight he didn’t dare look around for Irileth. He kept his gaze directed firmly at the ground. Right across the room from him was Hafizah, dancing a lively springar with Andurs and wearing a gown that could make Sanguine blush. She must have brought it with her from Hammerfell, because he certainly had never seen anything like it in Skyrim before. 

He desperately tried to think of anything but how _good_ it looked on her and almost immediately failed. It was made of some sort of gauzy, ivory material that he didn’t know the name of, with a neckline that draped well below her collarbone. Though, the most attention grabbing aspect of the dress, for him at least, wasn’t the decollete. The gown was made of two overlapping panels that joined by clasps at the waist and shoulders, but were otherwise left unattached. Every time she walked or twirled, the slits shifted apart to expose her legs, with only the narrow front panel to cover...well, he didn't want to dwell too much on that thought. Not in public, anyway.

He told himself that she was surely wearing undergarments. Admittedly, he wasn’t quite sure how that could work, but having never actually _seen_ a woman’s undergarments up close, he couldn’t exactly call himself an expert on the subject. When she’d sat beside him at dinner, where he might have expected to see the band of her underwear, he was fairly certain that he’d seen a sliver of her naked hip instead. Not to mention most of her thighs. In any case, he decided it would be best to play it safe tonight, counting the scuffs in the floor until he could retreat back to his room and think about the subject in greater depth.

“Well, don’t you just look like you’re having a blast?” came a familiar voice.

_Shit._

Farengar dragged his eyes away from the floorboards to see Hafizah, leaning against the wall next to him and looking every bit like an incarnation of Dibella. She idly swirled her goblet as she observed the crowd. A quick glance confirmed that, yes, the slits in her dress were definitely high enough to reveal her hips. He cleared his throat.

“Ah yes. I am, as always, the indisputable life of the party,” he answered, affecting what he hoped was a casual, aloof tone. 

Hafizah gave a huff of laughter over the rim of her goblet.

“If it’s any consolation, all dressed up and glowering in the corner of a feasting hall is a good look on you.” 

“Good,” he said. “You’ll be seeing a lot of it. They can make me waste my time at their festivals, but they can’t make me enjoy them.”

“So which part do you hate most: having fun or being forced to look presentable?” 

“As much as I despise fun, I’m compelled to chose the latter.” He felt himself relax a bit. “Being well-groomed and fashionable is a burden that ought to be placed on the shoulders of more handsome men. Me? I should be allowed to remain in my study looking like a cave troll.” 

He was embarrassingly proud of the chuckle that drew from her, and he paused to bask in it before continuing, “Be honest, Hafizah. Given the choice, wouldn’t you also prefer to be performing your actual duties? Rather than being forced into this godforsaken hall with 50 of my loudest, most drunken countrymen?” he asked.

She gave him a long, weary look.

“Today, while _you_ were squandering your ample time and resources on contrived theories, _I_ was trying to explain to Dagny that if she had 20 apples and I took away six, she would have 14 apples. She kept screaming that she’d have me arrested if I ever tried to steal her apples. She didn’t stop yelling until I flipped the question around so that she was taking apples from me.” Hafizah sighed and crossed her arms. “I didn’t leave the Apex Towers to be a nanny, Farengar. I left to be a court scholar, and court scholars go to parties. As far as I’m concerned, this is the only one of my _‘actual duties’_ I’ve gotten to do all week.”

“That’s fair,” he conceded awkwardly. “I’m, ah, sorry the job isn’t living up to your expectations.”

Hafizah relaxed against the wall and said, “Eh, I complain, but it’s not all bad. Nelkir is a morbid kid, but clever. He shows a lot of promise. I find Frothar endearingly forthright, in the way your people so often are. Hell, even Dagny has her moments.”

“ _‘Endearingly forthright?’_ ” Farengar quirked an eyebrow. “I’m not certain if that’s intended to be a compliment or not.”

“It is. Mostly. After a lifetime of navigating the political labyrinth of Hammerfell, I can appreciate the candor of Nords.” She smirked. “Even if they do always look me in the tits when they talk to me.”

Farengar spluttered, choking on his ale. His face burned red and he quickly turned his head away.

“Oh, calm down,” she reassured him with a nudge. “You know I wasn’t talking about you. When you look down my dress, you at least have the decency to be subtle about it.”

 _Shit._

He hadn’t had any reason to believe that Hafizah had noticed him all but eye-fucking her at dinner. Now he had confirmation that she had _definitely_ noticed and, underneath her light-hearted tone, probably thought he was an absolute creep. He tried to get his rapidly increasing sense of panic under control long enough to determine how to proceed. There was no point in insulting her intelligence by denying it. All he could do was apologize and hope that he hadn’t sullied their friendship by openly ogling her in front of the entire hold.

He drew a deep breath.

“I’m sorry. I hadn’t intended to disrespect you. You have my most sincere apology, Hafizah,” he said solemnly. He kept his head down, but glanced up at her face, to get an idea of just how fucked he was.

Her eyebrows were furrowed, but in either confusion or concern, not anger.

“Wait, what? I was just messing with you. It’s not like-” She stopped mid-sentence, her mouth spreading into a wide grin. She gasped and leaned in. “Wait. _No way!_ Farengar Secret-Fire, you’ve been looking at my tits?” she asked with a laugh. 

He was grateful that she was keeping her voice low. This situation was embarrassing enough with just the two of them privy to the conversation. This was probably the most mortifying moment of his adult life and he wanted nothing more than to fling himself into the fire pit. Fantasizing about being humiliated in front of Hafizah was one thing, but the reality of it, knowing he would have to face her every day for the foreseeable future, was quite another. Where a socially adept person might have tried to crack a joke or smooth over the situation, Farengar just shuffled his feet and kept his eyes down.

“I -well, yes. At dinner. I'm sorry,” he mumbled lamely.

Hafizah gently bumped her hip into his leg, to grab his attention. He reluctantly looked in her direction, careful to keep his eyes above her neck. She looked him over. For a second, he thought -or maybe hoped- that her smile became a little less playful and a little more sharp. 

“You know, my problem isn’t with people looking. My problem is how they treat me when they’re looking. You’ve never acted creepy toward me or said anything skeevy, so you’re fine. Although-” She leaned closer, her lips just a few inches from his ear. “You could’ve at least told me if you liked what you saw, you pervert.” 

Clearly, Farengar had indulged in one too many fantasies about Hafizah’s mockery. The word “pervert” send a jolt up his spine. His palms were slick with sweat and he could already feel his dick hardening in his dress robes. _Shit._ His dress robes. Normally, being half hard under his clothes would be a non-issue. His regular robes were loose enough to conceal anything short of a full erection, and even that he could just tuck under his belt. His dress robes, however, were properly tailored and form-fitting and absolutely useless at hiding the growing bulge in his pants. Panicking, he did the first thing that came to mind. 

He turned and faced the wall.

As he began chiding himself for doing _the absolute weirdest thing possible,_ he felt fingertips lightly brush against his shoulder.

“Farengar, look, I misread the situation and took that way too far. That was weird and inappropriate and I’m really sorry. If you’ll allow me, I’d like to offer you an apology gift to prove my sincerity, as we do in Craglorn. But if you want me to just fuck off and stop bothering you, I can do that too.” She waited a while for a response, but he couldn’t think of one to give.

“Right,” she said, setting down her glass and turning to go. “I’ll leave you alone now. Sorry.”

“Wait-” Farengar caught her hand, and immediately dropped it as soon as he realized what he was doing. “Sorry. Hafizah, I’m not- you haven’t upset me. It’s not you. It’s just…” He paused and licked his lips, trying to corral his thoughts into something coherent. “I’m not good at this sort of thing. You’ve known me long enough to know that I’m atrocious at holding a conversation about anything that isn’t history, linguistics, or spells. But please, _stay._ Your company has easily been the best part of my evening. I’d like nothing more than to keep talking with you.”

Hafizah’s expression softened into a smile as she stepped in closer.

“Aw, that’s so sweet. But if you keep this up, you’ll ruin your reputation for being a massive asshole.” She knitted her eyebrows together in mock concern. “People might even think you’re likable.”

“Oh, I genuinely doubt that,” he scoffed.

There was a pleasant silence between them for a second before Hafizah looked around the room and spoke up.

“You know, I’d still like to give you that apology gift, if you’re interested.”

Farengar held up his hand.

“That’s very gracious of you, but it’s really not necessary,” he replied. “You, ah, you don’t have anything to apologize for.” Which, of course, was his way of saying, _‘Please don’t apologize because I’m going to be jerking off to you calling me a pervert every day for the next year, at least.’_

“Honestly, I was going to give it to you during the New Life Festival anyway. At the very least, I’d like to get out of here so I can stop making embarrassing social blunders with the entire city as my audience.” She jerked her head to indicate the throng of people gathered in the great hall.

His anti-social nature couldn’t argue with the idea of getting away from the crowd, even if only for a few minutes. However, his eye caught on Gerda, who quickly went back to pouring drinks and pretending like she hadn’t been watching them.

He bent down and said quietly, “Don’t misunderstand, I want nothing more than to get out of this accursed hellhole at once. But I worry that if you and I are seen leaving together...well, surely you must know that there are already whispers about us. I fear that being seen going to your quarters with me might, ah, _further_ sully your reputation.”

Hafizah pulled away and stared at him for a moment before letting out a loud howl of laughter. Anyone who hadn’t been looking at them before certainly was now.

“Pfft- _my reputation?_ ” she repeated, catching her breath. “Oh, come on now, surely you know me better than that.”

He made a noncommittal gesture and continued to nervously look around the room. It seemed that everyone was courteously diverting their attention elsewhere, or at least pretending to.

Hafizah straightened, looking him squarely in the eye. “Farengar, I know everyone thinks we’re fucking, all right? And frankly, I’m perfectly fine with that. People have called me a lot of names behind my back, and ‘Farengar’s mistress’ is far from the worst.” 

“But still…” he mumbled weakly.

“Does it bother you, that people think I’m your lover?” Her gaze was direct and steady, but searching.

He shook his head quickly. “No, no. Of course not.”

“Then there’s no sense in fretting over it.” She leaned into his side, wrapped her hands around his arm, and began leading him across the great hall. She smirked up at him. “Besides, I’m kind of looking forward to hearing what they make up about us next. Did you hear that I sucked you off on the stairs of the great porch last Mondas? It's true! Nazeem saw it himself.”

His heart felt like it was ramming itself against his ribcage as she led him through the crowd. He swore he felt the eyes of the entire city boring into his back as they left. He was pretty certain that they had just dashed any hopes they had of dispelling the rumors. Although, admittedly, some pathetic, shameful part of him was secretly thrilled at the idea of everyone thinking he and Hafizah were lovers. It wasn’t like a milk-drinking loser such as himself could ever _actually_ be with a goddess like her, but having everyone think that he was seemed like the next best thing. At the very least, it was better than them knowing that he was a sad virgin who got off on being insulted by his beautiful colleague.

When she got to her room, he maintained a respectful distance outside her door, rocking from his heels to his toes as he waited. She peeked around the doorway at him and rolled her eyes.

“For fuck’s sake, Farengar. Are you coming in, or are you just going to stand outside my door like a stalker all night?” she called. 

As he crossed the threshold, it occurred to him that this was the first time he had ever actually been in a woman’s room. Even so, her quarters were almost exactly as he had imagined them to be, except perhaps a little smaller. Piles of books, some in Yoku and some in Tamrielic and others in languages he didn’t even recognize, spilled out from the bookshelves onto her desk and dresser. A peculiar sense of pride fluttered in him when he noticed that the copy of _Dragon Language: Myth No More_ he had given her was resting on her nightstand, full of dog-ears and makeshift bookmarks.

Hafizah pulled a chair over to the middle bookcase and climbed onto it, fishing around for something on the top shelf. On one hand, Farengar wanted to do the gentlemanly thing and offer to retrieve whatever it was she was looking for. On the other, her ass was just at eye level and it was hard to form sentences when he was focused on just how badly he wished he could bury his face in her thighs.

“Here we are,” she said, producing a decanter of a light brown liquid, “Stros M’kai spiced rum. I was planning on giving it to you as a Secret Sanguine gift, like we do back in Elinhir, but I doubt I could’ve gotten you to participate anyway.” She hopped off the chair. “I know how much you hate fun.”

He was racking his brain to find a proper expression of gratitude when he heard feet shuffling just outside the doorway.

“Nelkir? Aren’t you supposed to be in bed?” Hafizah asked.

The boy said nothing. He merely stood at the doorway in his bare feet and nightshirt and stared blankly forward. Farengar hated to admit it to being so shaken by a small child, but Nelkir’s empty eyes and unnaturally stiff posture creeped him the fuck out.

“What’s wrong? Did you have the scary dream about the basement again?” she asked, slowly placing the decanter on her desk and stepping closer.

The little terror nodded, expressionless, before abruptly slamming the door. Farengar and Hafizah exchanged puzzled glances for a second before-

_Click._

Hafizah rushed forward and jerked at the door handle, to no avail. She started pounding on the door.

“Nelkir? Nelkir! You open this door immediately! Do you hear me? Your father will be furious if he finds out what you’ve done, so if I were you I’d open the door this instant!” she shouted. 

No answer came from the other side.

“Shit,” she said, letting her back slide down the door until she was sitting on the ground, “that little bastard must have stolen my key.”

“I don't suppose you have a spare?” Farengar ventured.

She shook her head.

“Lockpicks?”

“Even if I had them, I wouldn't know what to do with them,” she replied, her eyes closed and her head resting against the door. “I don't suppose you've got a set of lockpicks and a checkered past, do you?”

“I'm afraid not. Sorry.” He conjured a spark in his palm. “If you’re desperate enough, I could always just blast it down.”

Hafizah gave him a withering look.

“Farengar Secret-Fire, if you so much as think about breaking down my bedroom door, I'll flay you alive,” she said, rising to her feet. “Fianna has a spare key and she’ll be here at nine in the morning to clean. And that's assuming that no one else comes by and lets us out before then. If you’re worried about having some privacy when the ale eventually works its way through your system, over there’s the door to my washroom. Right now, our worst -and most likely- scenario is that you and I are going to have a sleepover, and Fianna is going to tell everyone about it.” She pressed on his forearm, urging him to lower his hand. “Hardly worth blasting down my door.”

Farengar swallowed heavily as he dismissed the spark in his palm. He was absolutely unprepared for even being in her room, much less sleeping in it. Every muscle in his body felt tense and he momentarily considered braving Hafizah’s wrath and knocking the door off its hinges anyway.

For her part, Hafizah looked completely unbothered. She seemed completely relaxed as she strolled over to a cluttered cabinet and produced two small glasses. She removed the stopper from the decanter.

“Hope you don’t mind if I help myself to your some of your gift,” she said, pouring herself a finger of rum. She pressed a glass into his hands. He glanced back to the door.

“Are you sure we shouldn’t just knock it down? I’m certain they could have it repaired by tomorrow evening. Perhaps tonight they-” Hafizah put a finger to his lips.

“Please get this through your big, wonderful Nord skull: we are _not_ smashing down my door.” She sighed and lowered her hand. “What’s actually wrong? Are you sure you’re not upset about earlier? You seem really on edge and I can’t tell if it’s because of me or not. If what I said bothered you, I wish you’d just say so.”

He was quiet for a long time, trying to decide exactly how honest he wanted to be. On one hand, confessing his attraction to her seemed like a superb way to make the rest of the night -and the rest of the foreseeable future- unbearably awkward. On the other hand, if he said nothing, Hafizah would continue thinking that he was angry with her, and the thought of that made his stomach drop. Finally, he sat down on the edge of her bed and pulled back his hood.

“As usual, your observations are correct, but your conclusions are amiss,” he began, smiling wryly. “I promise, I’m not in any way upset with you, Hafizah. I’m just...ah, may I say something to you? In confidence?”

“Yeah, of course. Nothing leaves this room.”

Farengar nodded slowly and forced himself to make eye contact.

“I’ve never been in a woman’s bedroom before, much less slept in the same room as a woman,” he confessed, drumming his fingers nervously against his glass. “I don’t...I mean- I’m aware that there isn’t anything inherently, ah, suggestive about our circumstances, and I would never even imply that you and I would ever engage in anything, well... _inappropriate,_ but I’m-I’m perhaps a bit anxious about this situation nonetheless.” 

He waited for Hafizah to laugh at him but she didn’t. She tentatively reached out to him, asking permission with her eyes. He nodded. She softly ran her hand up and down his arm. The sensation almost made him shiver and he mentally scolded himself for willfully misinterpreting such a chaste gesture.

“Hey, you don’t have to be nervous. It’s just me. The absolute last thing I want to do is harm our friendship. Or you, for that matter.” She sat down beside him and gave him an uncharacteristically gentle smile. “And try not to think of it as ‘sharing a bedroom with a woman.’ See it for what it is: yet another night in which you and I stay up way too late arguing about first era Akaviri texts.”

Farengar nodded, but didn’t speak. 

“If it’s that uncomfortable for you,” Hafizah continued, “I can live with a broken door for a few nights. Now that I know how stressful this is for you, I don’t mind breaking it down.”

He shook his head, finally returning her smile. “That’s kind of you, but I don’t think that will be necessary.”

“Is there anything I can do to make this easier on you? We don’t have to share the bed, if that makes a difference. I wind up falling asleep at my desk half the time anyway, so I don’t mind doing it on purpose for once. Just let me know what I can do to help, all right?” 

Her body language was still relaxed, but her concern made itself obvious in her face and in her tone. It had been a long time since someone had shown so much concern over him. He blushed.

“Well, first of all, I suppose you could stop talking this foolishness about you sleeping at your desk tonight. Secondly, you can finally concede that there is little textual evidence to support that there are humanoid Tsaesci and that they are, in fact, a literal race of serpentfolk.”

Hafizah stopped rubbing his arm and shoved him.

“I would, except that most readings of the primary sources support the notion that the term ‘Tsaesci’ refers to an empire, and not just a race, you stubborn ass,” she laughed.

They argued amicably over a couple of glasses of rum and for a while, he forgot his nervousness. While Hafizah definitely wasn’t right about the Tsaesci, he had to confess that she was right about what to expect. Talking in her bedroom really wasn’t any different than talking in his study or in the great hall. In fact, he might even go so far as to say he preferred being able to converse with her in private, outside of the peripheral vision of every guard and servant in the keep. Part of him even hoped that Fianna would show up late tomorrow, so he could stay just a little longer.

Now Hafizah was leaning against her desk across from him, and had he been paying more attention to her face and not her legs, he might have noticed the mischievous glint in her eye sooner. 

“Hey, can I ask you something about earlier? You can stop me if I say something that pisses you off,” she asked, running a finger over her empty glass.

“Certainly.”

“So you said you’d never even been in a woman’s bedroom before, much less shared a bed with one, and the idea of it made you nervous, right?” she began.

He nodded, fidgeting on the bed as her mouth split into a devious grin. 

“Farengar Secret-Fire, are you a virgin?” she asked. The giggle that accompanied the question wasn’t cruel, but it definitely didn’t strike him as strictly innocent either. 

He had imagined this scenario, in which Hafizah laughs at him for being a virgin, dozens of times in the comfort of his own bed. Of course, there were a lot of differences between the reality and his imaginings. For one, he wasn’t tied up and naked. But the primary difference was that the Hafizah of his fantasies was harsh and cruel, laughing in his face as she told him how disgusting he was. The real Hafizah wasn’t nearly so mean-spirited. In fact, she seemed more curious than anything. When she laughed at him, it was always coltish and playful, never snide.

After a second, he nodded, keeping his eyes away from her face. On the periphery of his vision, he could see her lean closer, her head cocked to the side. She looked uncertain.

“Hey, you don’t have to answer my questions if they make you uncomfortable, you know. You can always say, ‘Fuck off, Hafizah, it’s none of your business.’ You won’t hurt my feelings.”

He shrugged and replied, “We’re friends. I don’t mind sharing the sparse details of my personal life with you.”

Apparently, that was all the encouragement she needed. She plopped down on the bed next to him, grinning impishly and leaning in close. He studiously kept his eyes on his knees, and not down the front of her dress.

“So how much of a virgin are you, then? Like, are you using the prosaic definition as in you’ve never had vaginal intercourse? Or do you mean you’ve never had any sexual contact with anyone at all? Is it because you’re not interested in sex, or is it something else?” she needled.

His face was hot. He wished it was only from the embarrassment, but he knew better.

“Ah, you wish to know precisely how inexperienced I am.” He sucked in a deep breath. “Well, ignoring a handful of lingering glances in the men’s bath house at college, I really only have one experience of note. When I was fourteen, an older neighbor girl whom I had long admired kissed me on a dare. She advised me to savor it because I was a freak who would never get the chance to kiss anyone ever again. In doing so, she accidentally reshaped my preferences for the rest of my life.” He gestured grandly. “And there you have it, the sum of my sexual experience.”

“First of all, wow. That’s horrible. I’m sorry that happened to you. But I’m curious, what do you mean by ‘reshaped your preferences?’” she asked, her eyebrows furrowed.

Farengar squirmed. He had never divulged to anyone that he got rock hard at the idea of being called pathetic by a beautiful woman, and he wasn’t really keen to. But while Hafizah liked teasing him, there was never any venom behind it. She was always quick to apologize as soon as she thought she might have stepped too far. Moreover, they had become close over the past few months. When she was homesick and frustrated at Nords and their distrust of scholars and foreigners, -or, as was her case, _foreign scholars_ \- it was Farengar that she confided in. At the end of a tiresome day of dead-end research, he always sought out Hafizah’s company for comfort. She was the first person he greeted in the morning, and the last person he said goodbye to at night. Surely that bond meant something to her too. He could trust her with this, he decided.

He turned to face her.

“I get aroused by being insulted and ridiculed, particularly by women,” he said seriously, locking eyes with her.

The silence was palpable as they stared at each other. Neither of them moved. Farengar felt a trickle of sweat drip down his spine. Then Hafizah's mouth twitched, and she snorted as she tried to suppress a giggle. They both broke into a fit of laughter, immediately banishing the tension from the room.

“ _No way!_ ” She wiped at her eyes, still grinning. “Is that why you got so flustered when I called you a pervert? Because it turned you on?”

“In my defense, that was the closest I’ve gotten to sex since I was fourteen,” he answered, holding his ribs.

“No wonder you keep me around, then. All this time, I thought you held onto your defunct theories because you were dense. Turns out you’ve just been milking me for wank fodder.”

“I’ll have you know that my beliefs about the Tsaesci are both sincere and correct. The mockery is merely a nice perk.” He relaxed, laying back on the bed and propping himself up on his elbows. “What about you? Any surprise fetishes of your own? I would ask if you’re a virgin as well, but...I mean, it seems like a stupid question.”

She lightly smacked his shoulder.

“Excuse me, are you trying to imply that I’m promiscuous? For all you know, I could be a virgin too.”

“While admittedly it’s possible, it seems unlikely. You’ve never struck me as being adverse to the idea of casual sex and...well…” He chewed his lower lip. He wasn’t sure if this was a sentence he should finish.

Hafizah’s eyes narrowed and her mouth curled into that lively smirk that always sent electricity through his veins.

“And?” she prompted.

“And...” His eyes roamed over her body for a moment as he imagined how it would be to be one of the lucky people who had gotten to touch her, to taste her. “I can’t imagine you want for suitors. You’re very beautiful, Hafizah.”

She reached over and lightly raked her nails across his scalp. He shuddered, the sensation sending tingles throughout his entire body.

“You’re sweet. And for what it’s worth, your assumption was absolutely right. I’m not exactly inexperienced. I was just interested in your reasoning. As for kinks, I have a few. Probably just as strange as your own,” she said, idly scratching his scalp.

He wasn’t sure if it was their closeness that made him bold, or what small amount of rum was still in his system. He looked over her bare thighs, eyes catching on the flimsy piece of fabric between her legs. He caught himself biting his lip.

“While we’re making uncomfortable personal queries,” he began, “I’ve, ah, spent half the night attempting to wrap my head around the logistics of how you could possibly wear anything under that dress. So far, the best answer I’ve come up with is that there is a series of hooks sewn into the lining to keep your underwear in place, but that seems unlikely. If you don’t mind me asking, ah, how exactly does it work?”

“Divines, you really are a virgin.” She ruffled his hair. “Haven’t you ever heard the phrase, ‘the simplest solution tends to be the correct one?’”

“I have, but I’m afraid that doesn’t answer how one can wear undergarments with a dress so revealing.”

“The answer, dear Farengar, is that one can’t.”

“ _Oh._ ” 

A less observant person wouldn’t have noticed the tent beginning to form in Farengar’s robe. A less forward person wouldn’t have mentioned it. But Hafizah wasn't a less observant person, and she certainly wasn't a less forward one. As soon as he saw her eyes dart downward, he knew she wasn’t going to politely ignore this. She bit back a laugh.

“Farengar Secret-Fire, are you getting hard?” she asked, shifting forward and lightly gripping his hair so he couldn’t turn his head away.

He gulped and nodded as much as he could with her fingers in his hair.

“In all fairness, you’re the one who just disclosed to a lecherous virgin that you’re a mere loose thread away from nudity,” he answered shakily.

He tried to disguise just how heavily he was breathing. While he could infer by her tone and her sly grin that she wasn’t angry, he was still far too anxious to meet her eyes. Or at least that was what he told himself, as his gaze came to rest on her groin. Of course, having his hair pulled by an actual goddess while he gawked at her barely concealed crotch was not helping his situation. He was now fully erect.

She narrowed her eyes at him and rose to her knees. She took his head in both of her hands and pulled him in until their foreheads were nearly touching. The intensity of her gaze alone was almost enough to draw a groan out of him.

“You scared of eye contact, or were you just hoping to steal a glimpse up my dress?” She leaned in to his ear and added in a whisper, “You disgusting little pervert.”

If she had been worried about going too far, the choked moan that escaped from Farengar’s throat should have been plenty of confirmation that she hadn’t. She pulled back, a lopsided smile on her face, and looked from his glazed eyes to his extremely obvious erection.

“Holy shit, you weren’t kidding. You look like you’d cum your pants if I so much as breathed on you.”

“You’re probably right,” he groaned. “Also, you’re not helping.”

“Who said I was trying to help?”

She gave him a searching look for a second before pressing her lips to his.

It was a low bar, but this kiss was easily much more enjoyable than his first one. Hafizah was surprisingly gentle, planting a series of chaste kisses on his mouth and jaw. She took his hand and interlaced her fingers with his. Tenderly, she parted his lips with her tongue and slowly pushed inside. Farengar reciprocated when he could, but he was terrified that he might do something wrong and ruin everything, so for the most part he just sat still and tried to mimic her motions. She pulled away and nuzzled into his neck.

“Hey, if you don’t want this, just say so. You won’t hurt my feelings if you turn me down. You would tell me if this was too much, right?” Her voice was throatier than normal, and he wondered if it meant she was aroused too. 

He withdrew his hand from hers and stroked the silky skin of her legs. His hands wavered slightly as they glided over her soft inner thighs, not daring to go higher.

“Hafizah, when I...when I, ah, pleasure myself, this is precisely what I imagine. You teasing me, laughing at me, taking control.” He swallowed loudly and his voice became a whisper. “This is all I’ve ever wanted, and I’ve wanted it for a long time. Please, I scarcely have the first idea where to go from here, but I’m certain that I don’t want to stop.”

“All right.” She gave him a mischievous look and swatted his hands away. She stood up and leaned back against the edge of her desk, making sure to stand with her legs open and on display. Then she suddenly bent down and grabbed the collar of his robe, leaning down just enough to let Farengar see down the neckline of her dress. 

“So then, you _have_ been jerking off to me. I wonder what kind of sick little fantasies you’ve conjured up about me. Tell me, what’s the filthiest one?” she purred. Her voice was dangerous and predatory and so full of promise that Farengar worried that he might cum in his robes before they even got started.

He kept his arms at his sides, his hands gripping the comforter, and tried to steady himself. His mouth was dry and his voice came out hoarse when he spoke.

“It’s humiliating.” He paused, averting his eyes. “I’m not sure you would ever be able to look at me the same if you knew…”

“Oh, come on,” she coaxed, tightening her grip on his collar, “no reason to be shy about it now, you fucking creep.”

He couldn’t help himself, this was just too good. He moaned and ground his palm into the bulge in his robes.

“You catch me-” he started, “you catch me masturbating to you. You need to come into my room to get a book I borrowed and you find me moaning your name. You’re furious, and you tell me how disgusting I am for having such lewd thoughts about my colleague. But when I try to cover myself and apologize, you...you slap me and force me to kneel in front of you. You tell me to keep stroking. If I’m going to pleasure myself to you, it’ll be on your terms, and you intend to-” He licked his lips, his mouth suddenly very dry. “-to make me suffer for it. You tell me I’m a hopeless loser, and I should be grateful that you’d even deign to watch me. You make me thank you for laughing at me while I stroke myself, and then to prove my gratitude, you shove my head between your legs and order me to lick your cunt.” 

Hafizah released him and he could hear her settling back against her desk, but he didn’t dare look at her. 

He inhaled and continued, “I...I’m bad at it, and you tell me as much. I could never hope to make a woman cum. Instead, you just grind against my tongue until you can get yourself off, telling me how worthless I am the entire time. When you’re satisfied, you tell me to cum for you. I...I spill all over the floor and you make me lick it up. You rub my face in it. Then, you kick me in the ribs and threaten me into keeping quiet. With your heel on my throat, you tell me that I’m disgusting and you don’t want anyone to think that you’re so desperate that you’d resort to fucking someone like me. You leave me a humiliated mess on the ground: clutching my side, covered in my own cum, and already growing hard again.”

His heart pounded. This was where the night ended, he was certain. He’d had a chance at being with the most alluring, intelligent woman he had ever met and he’d squandered it with his weird perversions. Because of course he would.

“ _Fuck,_ that’s hot. You know, for someone who’s never done this before, you’re pretty good at talking dirty, you know that?” Her voice was a breathy murmur. 

Hafizah was reclined on her desk, one hand gripping the edge to steady herself and the other rubbing slow circles under her dress. He hoped that she hadn’t been expecting a coherent answer, because he was in absolutely no state to give one. Instead he just watched, transfixed, as her hand rhythmically worked between her legs. She continued for a few more seconds before hopping off the desk.

“There is one problem though,” she said, closing the distance between them.

“Yes?” 

She held out her fingers in front of Farengar’s mouth. They weren’t exactly dripping, but he could see how a little bit of moisture clung to her fingertips. He eagerly took her fingers into his mouth and sucked. He had read plenty of lurid stories that compared women’s fluids to honey, but that was merely artistic license, he decided. The taste was nothing like honey. It was sharp and tart and almost citrusy, and if he could have it on his tongue for the rest of his life, he’d die happy.

“I’m not sure if I can be that mean to you. At least, not yet anyway.” She smiled down at him tenderly, stroking his hair. “I care about you, Farengar. A lot. I want to give you what you want, but I know you’re inexperienced. Don’t get me wrong, I _like_ being aggressive, but I don’t want to hurt you for real. Is it all right if I put on the kid gloves for now? Would you still want this if I couldn’t live up to your fantasy?” 

Farengar slowly pulled her fingers out of his mouth.

“Perhaps you didn’t ask the right question,” he said, pressing a kiss into her palm.

“How so?”

“You asked for my filthiest fantasy.” His eyes flicked up to hers. “Perhaps you should have asked for my most tender one instead.”

She sighed.

“You’re insufferable when you’re right, you know that?” She gently pushed him over onto the bed and swung her knee over hips, straddling him. “So tell me then, my darling pervert, what’s the most romantic, saccharine, mushy-wushy fantasy you’ve ever had about me?”

He smiled, closing his eyes, and let his head sink back into her pillow.

“We’re in my study,” he began, “reading together, complaining about Nords, criticizing each other’s taste in books. The usual. You keep complaining of a sore neck, and I offer to massage your shoulders. You call me a pervert and accuse me of having ulterior motives, but you laugh and push the straps of your bodice aside as you say it. You continue reading as I work the tension out of your neck and enjoy the feeling of your skin against my fingers. You sigh and tell me that it feels amazing. That you love my hands. The praise, or maybe the way you say it, catches me so off guard that I forget to move. You take my hand in yours and look up at me. It takes me a while, but eventually, I realize that the look is a question, and I nod. You laugh and say that it’s about time as you spring up to kiss me. I’m a clumsy kisser, but you don’t mind, and before I know it, you have me pressed against the wall. When you realize I’m hard, you smirk and your voice is playful when you scold me for my lewd thoughts. Then you take my hand and lead me to my bedroom.”

“Keep going,” Hafizah said, rolling her hips deliberately against Farengar’s and lacing her fingers with his. The pressure and friction drew an appreciative sound from the back of his throat, something between a hum and a moan.

“I tell you I’m a virgin and you laugh because you had already worked that out,” he breathed. “My hands shake and I can’t get your bodice undone, so you order me to sit down and watch. You undress for me, agonizingly slow, and I can tell that teasing me turns you on. You look like a goddess, and even in my fantasy it feels too good to be true. I’m nervous, unsure where to touch, so you show me. You show me how to brush my thumbs over your nipples in a way that makes your breathing shallow. You show me how to lick the shell of your ear in a way that makes you giggle and moan all at the same time. Then you show me how to make you cum. First you show me how to use my fingers, then my tongue. I have three fingers inside you and my tongue is on your clit. When you finally cum, your thighs clench around me and you cry out that you love me.”

He opened his eyes to find her lips parted and her eyes half-closed. Through the flimsy material of her dress it was hard to miss how hard her nipples were.

“Mm, I like that one too. But how do _you_ cum, in your fantasy?” she asked.

“I’ve never made it that far,” he chuckled. “By the time I imagine you calling out my name and telling me that you love me, I’m gone. And that’s assuming I didn’t finish before then.”

A curious look passed over her face and her hips stilled. She placed her hands on either side of his head and leaned over him, her face hovering over his. 

“Farengar Secret-Fire,” she said softly, “are you in love with me?”

He didn’t hesitate this time. 

“How could I not be?”

Hafizah surged forward and kissed him. Earlier, she had been slow and deliberate and reserved, but now she moved with a barely contained zeal, biting down on his lower lip and moaning as she swirled her tongue against his. The fingers of her left hand lingered possessively on his throat, occasionally squeezing, but never quite enough to choke him. 

For his part, Farengar desperately and artlessly rubbed himself against her. His hands wandered eagerly, touching every inch of flesh they could find. Well, _almost._ Through the sides of her dress, his hands found her ribs and rubbed over them in hungry strokes. Then he stopped abruptly. His thumbs were a hair’s breadth away from the undersides of her breasts, but he was frozen in place, afraid to move any further.

Hafizah pulled back and bounced up from the bed. She held his gaze as she began undoing the clasps of her dress. Farengar didn’t bother to disguise his frenetic breathing this time. His eyes were wide and full of unmasked desire as he crawled to the edge of the bed to watch her undress. She giggled as she let the fabric fall around her feet and that tiny little giggle absolutely shattered whatever control Farengar had left. He reached under his robes and frantically started to rub his cock, his eyes trailing over her body. 

She smacked his hand away.

“Touching yourself instead of me?” she teased. “I thought you'd be more generous than that, Farengar. I’ve given you so many opportunities to touch me, and you’ve scarcely taken any of them.” She took his chin in her hand and leaned in close. “What’s the matter? You don’t want to touch me?”

He bit back a whine. He didn’t know precisely what game she was playing, but whatever it was, he wanted to play too.

“I’m sorry, goddess. I haven’t touched you because I was afraid to, not because I don’t want to,” he answered.

“‘Goddess,’ huh? I could get used to that.” She let go of his jaw and stood upright. “Why don’t you tell me how much you want to touch me, then? _Beg._ ”

If he lived to the next kalpa, he could never forget how that command made his blood run hot. He nodded, dumbstruck, and sank to the floor to kneel at her feet. How many lonely nights had he spent imagining this? He swallowed heavily before speaking, and Hafizah quirked her eyebrow at him expectantly.

“ _Please._ I’m grateful just to kneel before you, to look upon you. To touch you with my base hands is more than I deserve, but if you would allow me, I would worship you with them. Hafizah, _please,_ ” he gushed.

In response, she carded her fingers through his hair and pulled lightly. Her expression was absolutely wicked and Farengar was pretty sure he’d be dreaming of it for the rest of his life.

“Who said anything about your hands?” she asked, as she pushed his head between her legs.

He gripped her thighs. He had absolutely no idea what he was doing, but hoped that enthusiasm and secondhand information gleaned from bawdy stories would make up for it. He lapped eagerly at her and in return she tugged sharply on his hair.

“Ah-ah. Control yourself. Limit yourself to long, slow strokes with your tongue and light sucking until I tell you otherwise,” she instructed.

He obeyed. He felt absolutely intoxicated as he dragged his tongue over her clit and felt her thighs tense in response. His dress robes had a growing spot of pre-cum on the front, but he couldn’t bring himself to care about that just now. Not when Hafizah was shifting her hips in slow, tight circles, panting lightly above him. He looked up toward her face and felt her shudder when he made eye contact.

“Divines, you look good like that.” Her voice was less even now. “More. Use the tip of your tongue. Alternate moving in straight lines and circles.” 

As turned on as he was at the idea of being told he was a useless lover, the reality of actually pleasing Hafizah seemed infinitely more enticing. She moaned his name and he was awestruck. He had never thought that he would ever be able to draw such a reaction out of her except in his fantasies. He desperately wanted to make her cum. But just when he felt that he was catching on to what she liked, she pulled him away. 

“Did I do something wrong?” he asked, maybe a little too quickly. 

Hafizah swallowed and shook her head, her breath still coming in soft huffs.

“No, no. You’re a quick study. If only everyone took instruction as well as you. No, I just want you naked and on the bed. Now.” 

He nodded but didn't move. He was absolutely certain that everyone in the keep could hear his heart pounding from here. Hafizah extended her hand and helped him up.

“You're afraid,” she observed.

He nodded again and she pulled him into an embrace.

“You don't have to do this if you don't want to. I won't think less of you or be upset if-” He shook his head, squeezing her hands insistently.

“It’s not that I don’t want to. I do. I just worry that l'll do something wrong and ruin...this,” he confessed.

“Don't. The stakes aren't as high as you think, Farengar. I already like you, or else I wouldn’t have brought you here. You don't have to prove anything to me,” she said softly.

He nodded again, and began untying his belt this time. Hafizah stroked him through his robes and whispered encouragements as he fumbled with the cord. When he finally managed to remove the belt, she undid the clasp at his shoulder and helped peel his robes away from his body. 

He shuddered to think how red his face must be. He was scarcely used to being seen without his hood, much less in his underwear. In spite of her tender words and gentle touch, he still found himself petrified under her gaze. He wasn't handsome, even by the lax standards of Nord farmers, so how could he hope to impress a refined, wordly beauty like her? While he didn’t think she was shallow, by any means, some lesser part of him was still afraid that she’d change her mind after seeing his body.

Instead, she ran her hand across his shoulders to his chest, looking over him hungrily. When he shivered and got goosebumps from the light touch of her fingers over his ribs, she smiled and bit her lip. It was at that moment that his self-consciousness disappeared. He was stupidly, hopelessly in love and bashfulness be damned, he’d climb onto the Jarl's throne and strip in the middle of the great hall if it meant she’d bite her lip like that again.

With her index finger she pushed him backward onto the bed. She knelt beside him and slipped her hand inside his underwear. He sucked in a sharp breath at the contact. It was amazing how different her touch felt from his own. She moved her fingers languidly over his shaft before loosely gripping him. His breath hitched as she moved her hand.

“I know you'd probably love it if I told you your cock was tiny and worthless, but I'm a terrible liar,” she said, pulling his underwear off, “Divines, you Nords are a robust people.”

Unsure of how to respond to the compliment, he mumbled a quiet, “Ah, thanks.”

Her grip was light and loose as she stroked him, enough to keep him stimulated, but not enough to bring him to orgasm. She watched his face carefully.

“Is this all right?” she asked, moving his hand to her breast. 

“Yes, please,” he whispered, brushing his thumb over her nipple and gingerly squeezing. He tried to keep his touch as soft as hers, but he was painfully aware of how much larger and clumsier his hands were by comparison.

Sensing his tension, she laughed and said, “Hey, you don’t have to be so gentle. I won’t break from a little bit of squeezing, all right?”

He nodded and sat up, wrapping his arm around her waist and drawing her nipple into his mouth. Her rhythmic stroking faltered for a second and she let out a shaky breath. Feeling emboldened by her reaction, he started to rub and pull at her other nipple. 

“ _Fuck,_ ” she moaned, “you’re good at that.” 

He couldn’t quite see, due to the angle, but he could tell by the sound and the motion of her arm that she was rubbing her clit now. Even with her maddeningly light touch, he was worried he might cum prematurely. The head of his cock was slick with pre-come and every one of Hafizah’s groans and ragged breaths drove him closer to the edge.

He grasped her wrist, and moved it away from his cock.

“Don’t tell me you were going to cum already?” she teased, tugging on his hair. 

He exhaled heavily through his nose as he sucked feverishly on her nipple. His ministrations became harder, more erratic. He was determined to make her cum.

“Ow! Too much,” she said, pulling him away by the hair.

“Sorry,” he mumbled, eyes down.

“It’s fine. These things happen,” she reassured him, caressing his thighs as she worked back toward his cock.

He pulled back, sitting upright and drawing his knees in, ducking away from her touch. Hafizah’s face was soft with concern as she reached to cup his cheek.

“What’s wrong? Do you want to stop?” she asked.

“No,” Farengar said quickly, shaking his head, “No, it’s isn’t that. I just...I’m worried that I’ll finish too early. It’s one thing to fantasize about not being able to please you, but now that we’re...we’re really doing _this_ , I don’t want to leave you unsatisfied.”

She plopped back onto the bed, legs spread and knees bent and she chuckled, “Pfft, is that all? If you’re so worried about me getting off, go sit at the foot of the bed.”

He obeyed, kneeling with his back straight and his heels against the footboard as she positioned herself. She propped herself up on her elbows and regarded him for a second, her head tilted. Then she wriggled her toes along his ribs. He had never known he was this ticklish. Or maybe he had known, at some point, and had just forgotten. In either case, in spite of his nerves, he found himself laughing and ineffectually trying to swat her feet away.

“That’s better.” Her grin wasn’t seductive or cutting. If anything it was lopsided, and a little goofy. “This is supposed to be fun, so don’t let your perfectionism stand in the way. Let go and just try to enjoy it in the moment. We’ll have plenty of chances for do-overs later.”

 _Later._ The word ignited something giddy and hopeful inside him. But before he could ask her what she meant by “later,” she continued on.

“If we’re aiming for your cutest, mushiest fantasy, I have to teach you how to use your fingers too, right?” she asked, opening her legs more.

It took every iota of self-control he had to not bury his face between her legs. He reminded himself that there would, apparently, be a _later_ and stroked the soft skin of her inner thighs.

“Is this all right?” he asked, running his thumb along her lips, occasionally brushing over her clit.

“It’s all right, but I don’t need this much build up right now. I’m wet enough that you can probably just push a finger in,” she answered.

Farengar swallowed and pressed his fingertips against her entrance. She was soaked. He couldn’t hold out anymore. He wanted to taste her again. He brought his fingers to his mouth and sucked them greedily, not bothering to stifle his moans.

“Fuck, you’re hot when you do that. I can’t wait to introduce you to face-sitting,” she said.

As much as he was ready to be introduced to face-sitting right then and there, he had been given an order. And he wasn’t one to disobey a goddess. His fingers were slick with saliva as he removed them from his mouth. Slowly, he pressed his index finger into her, watching her face the entire time. He slid it in and out carefully, amazed by the warmth and pressure. He added another finger, and was surprised to find it went in just as easily as the first.

“Good,” she sighed, “now curl them inside me, until you hit something soft.”

“Soft?” he echoed, curling his fingers into a beckoning motion.

“Mm, deeper. It’ll feel different from everything else. You’ll know you’ve hit it when-” She cut herself short with a gasp. 

She was right. Whatever it was, it felt different from the taut muscle around it. It was soft and pillowy and whenever he grazed his fingertips against it, he drew a beautiful chorus of whines and moans from her. He tried to watch her face, but her head was thrown back, so he could only see her throat and the curve of her jaw as she writhed against the pillows. 

“You’re so beautiful, Hafizah.” His voice was ragged and breathless as he rubbed his thumb firmly over her clit. “I want to worship you like this every day. I want to be subject to your every whim. To exist solely for your pleasure. I want to belong to you.”

Her hands twisted in the sheets as she arched her back and pressed harder into Farengar’s hand. Her skin was glossy with sweat. Even with his complete lack of experience, he could tell that she was getting close. He pumped his fingers into her faster, and alternated moving his thumb in straight lines and tight circles, just as he had with his tongue.

He planted a kiss on her inner thigh. “Please, I want to see you cum.”

The words must have had an effect on her, because her entire body seemed to contract and tighten around him. The cry that left her throat was raspy and lower than he had imagined it would be. Until he heard it, he hadn’t realized how desperately he wanted to be inside her. To see how many other ways he could please her. He sat still, feeling the aftershocks of her orgasm as her walls clenched and throbbed around his fingers. Hafizah caught her breath and managed to pull herself into a reclining position. 

She gave him a questioning look. 

He nodded. 

She wasn’t gentle when she grabbed him by the hair and pulled him to her. No, she was deliciously harsh, raking her nails over his chest as she forced her tongue past his lips. When she grasped his cock, it wasn’t with the light, ghosting touches she had used to tease him earlier. Her grip was tight enough to be painful, and that surge of pain sent a new wave of arousal through him. His mind fogged over with lust, his thoughts reduced to incoherent flashes of _want_ and _please_.

“Hafizah, my goddess, please,” he whispered.

“‘Please’ what?” She wrapped her beautiful, dainty fingers around his throat and laughed as he rutted into her hand.

“Ride me,” he groaned.

Hafizah blinked in surprise for a moment, but didn’t loosen her grip. He didn’t think either of them had expected him to be so bold. A sharp, cruel look that made Farengar whine in anticipation overtook her features.

“On your back, you fucking pervert.” She slammed him backwards by his throat and he wondered if she could feel his pulse racing through his veins. She straddled his hips, but wouldn’t lower herself onto him just yet. Instead, she rubbed herself against the length of his cock with a torturous slowness. He threw his head back.

“ _Hafizah_ ,” he pleaded.

“You must really want to fuck me, huh?” 

“Please, yes. Want to be inside you. Please, _please_ ,” he babbled, nodding as eagerly as he could with her hand encircling his throat.

“Look at you, Farengar Secret-Fire.” Hafizah laughed, removing her hand from his throat to hold his face. “A respected scholar of Winterhold reduced to a gibbering mess by his lust. Don’t you have any shame?”

Farengar desperately wanted to play along, to answer her, but he found he couldn’t form the words. The only sound that escaped his mouth was a pathetic moan. She ground into him harder.

“How about this: I’ll fuck you on the condition that you say, ‘Hafizah, my goddess, please claim my virgin cock.’” 

He licked his lips, his mouth feeling remarkably dry. He drew in a shaky breath to compose himself. 

“Hafizah, my goddess-” He whimpered as Hafizah pressed her slick lips to the sensitive underside of his cock, breaking his concentration. She laughed.

“You’re not saying it,” she teased, rolling her hips in small circles, “I thought you wanted to fuck me.”

Squeezing his eyes shut and drawing on his last scrap of composure, he managed to beg, “Hafizah, my goddess, please claim my virgin cock.”

When he opened his eyes, her cruel expression had subsided. In its place was something tender and affectionate and uncertain.

“Are you sure this is what you want?” she asked again, raising herself up and pressing a kiss to his forehead.

He nodded mutely, staring into Hafizah’s eyes and hoping she understood just how hopelessly in love with her he was, how fervently he wanted this. He grabbed the base of his erection, positioning himself under her. He almost sobbed at the sensation of his cock pushing past her entrance. 

This feeling was completely unlike anything he’d ever felt before. Warmth and pressure enveloped him from all sides. He felt light-headed, as if he’d been holding his breath. He ran his hands over Hafizah’s body, desperately trying to touch all of her at once, before he settled on taking her hands in his. 

“ _Fuck._ ” he groaned. 

“That good, huh?”

He nodded wordlessly, licking his lips.

Hafizah smiled sinisterly and whispered, “Then you’ll love this.”

She tensed around him as she moved her hips in a tight circle. If the pleasure before was dizzying, this was overwhelming. His head swam. He thrust gracelessly into her a few times before he was able to catch on to her rhythm.

“Not terrible,” she murmured, “but how will you cope if I pick up the pace?”

Hafizah unlaced her fingers from his and dug her nails into the pale skin of his shoulders. His breath hitched and he wondered whether they would leave bruises. _Divines,_ he hoped they would leave bruises. She rose up and lowered herself down again viciously, riding him at a punishing pace. The thumping of the bed frame against the wall was deafening and for a moment he wondered how many people could hear them, and if anyone knew what they were doing. She pressed her nails harder into his shoulders, smirking at the way he hissed and arched his back at the pain.

“You like it when it hurts don’t you, pervert?” she teased, panting.

“Hafizah, _please_ …” He was close, and he had a sneaking suspicion that she knew it.

“‘Please’ what?” she asked, grinding her hips down hard.

“Please, hurt me. Choke me. Please make me cum.”

He felt Hafizah quiver at the words “choke me.” She slowed her pace and moaned as her fingers appreciatively encircled his throat. She tightened them carefully, and when he unsuccessfully tried to draw a breath, he could feel her walls throbbing around him. She bucked her hips wildly, at a frenzied tempo. Through the haze of arousal, he felt a little bit of pride in uncovering one of her fetishes.

“Oh, fuck. I was going to just stop after...after you finished but-” Hafizah paused for a second to catch her breath. “-I want to cum again. Gonna make you eat me out after you cum inside me, fucking freak.”

Farengar couldn’t hold out against Hafizah’s beautiful hands at his throat. Her cunt tightening and pulsing around him. The delicious threats that fell from her lips. His fingers clawed at her hips, desperately trying to find purchase. She removed one of her hands from his neck and instead tangled it in his hair, pulling sharply. He gasped, and buried himself as deep in her as he could. His entire body shuddered, and he cried out her name twice as he came.

She shifted her hips a few times as he rode out his orgasm, then slowly lifted herself off, laying down by his side.

Farengar was still in a daze, panting heavily, but he managed to ask, “You, ah...meant what you said earlier, right?

“I’m gonna need you to be more specific than that, love,” she replied, reaching for the pitcher of water on her nightstand.

Farengar sat up and shifted to kneel at the foot of the bed, his spent cock still twitching. 

“I believe your precise words were, ‘I’m going to make you eat me out after you cum in me, you fucking freak.’” he said, pressing a kiss into her inner thigh. Hafizah smiled at him over her goblet.

“And here I was worried you wouldn’t want to.” She set her glass down on the nightstand and opened her legs for him. “Clean me up.”

In the past, when Farengar had tasted his own cum, it was to always to add to the shame of his fantasies. He liked to imagine being forced to clean up his mess, the more degrading the method the better. But in this moment, he didn’t feel any shame. He couldn’t think of anything less degrading than this. There was only a warm sense of affection that enveloped him as he meticulously lapped up every drop.

She splayed her fingers over his scalp, running them through his hair before she gave a light tug upward, directing his mouth toward her clit.

“Suck me,” she breathed.

Farengar took her clit into his mouth, careful not to overstimulate her. Too much pressure seemed to be painful, and too little was annoying. He concentrated on trying to apply moderate, consistent pressure, pumping her clit steadily between his lips. He watched her face attentively, hoping for signs of approval. She gripped his hair tighter as they locked eyes.

“ _Fuck,_ I love when you look up at me like that,” she moaned, pressing his face harder into her cunt, “More.” 

He picked up his pace, sucking more forcefully and curling his tongue against the tip of her clit. It was only his second time doing this, but if he were forced to choose, he’d definitely say that he preferred serving Hafizah like this, without concerns over his own orgasm hanging over his head. The haze of his earlier arousal and his nervousness had made it nearly impossible to focus properly on what he was doing. His motions had been clumsy and erratic. But now he could devote all of his energy and concentration to the task at at hand. He knew he was far from experienced, but at least now his movements felt more controlled, more purposeful. And if her moans were any indication, Hafizah was in agreement.

He inserted his fingers into her, curling them as he vigorously pumped in and out. She was absolutely dripping, her cum rolling down his palms and pooling in the crook of his wrist. Her grip on his hair had become painful and she thrashed desperately against his mouth and fingers. Her free hand grasped the sheets so hard her knuckles cracked, and she threw her head back against the headboard.

“ _Fuck, Farengar! Ah, fuck!_ ” Her voice was hoarse and throaty when she screamed. Her thighs quivered, and he could feel her orgasm reverberating throughout her body. 

He pulled away, gently removing his fingers from her as she spasmed, and moved to lie down beside her. Her breathing was still ragged as she turned to him with a sly smile.

“Do you figure it’s too early for me to say I love you?” she asked.

“I certainly hope not. If memory serves, I believe I already admitted to being in love with you half an hour ago,” he said, curling into her side. 

“Mmm, true.” Her fingers traced soft spirals into his shoulder. “What do you think Fianna’s going to say when she finds us here in the morning?”

He closed his eyes, smiling contentedly as he placed a kiss on the edge of her jaw.

“Who cares?”


End file.
